


(wanna get drunk) on your kiss

by darkangel0410



Series: heatstroke [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: The first time Connor sees Jack is atRocky’s, when Jack’s band is performing and Connor's sitting at the bar.Well. That's not exactly true.It's the first time he’s seen Jack since they were both playing for their respective countries at the U16s.





	(wanna get drunk) on your kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I guess here's the second installment of the pop-country AU? Written on my phone over a couple hours because sometimes stories just can't wait until you're at a laptop. Enjoy!

The first time Connor sees Jack is at _Rocky’s_ , when Jack’s band is performing and Connor's sitting at the bar. 

Well. That's not exactly true.

It's the first time he’s seen Jack since they were both playing for their respective countries at the U16s. A year later Connor broke his leg in four different places and the doctors told him he’d never be able to skate well enough again to play professional hockey. A year or so after _that_ , Jack dropped out of the States developmental program -and hockey- completely. 

It was almost a shock when he heard that Jack was playing bass in a cover band with guys he knew from hockey; Connor honestly thought without hockey that Jack would get a nine-to-five somewhere and that would be it. It was almost surreal that Connor was starting a band with Dylan and Mitch at the same time.

There's a certain serendipity to it that Connor likes, as if the universe is telling them that no matter what they did with their lives, they were still connected somehow. 

Connor tried to tell himself that his crush on Jack was really about his hockey and was only a passing thing that he’d get over eventually, but watching Jack play bass and move around the stage as confidently as he used to skate around the ice, Connor knew he was wrong.

*

“I can’t believe you dragged me here,” Dylan complains, loud enough to be heard over the music that was thumping through the bar. “Mitch is already here, why am I being forced to listen to subpar music,” he adds, kicking Mitch who was trying to look through the crowd to the stage.

A couple people walking past them give Dylan a dirty look, but keep going to mix in with the crush of people that were packing in _Rocky’s_ to see the American cover band; Connor half-debated going over to where their merch table was set up and talking to the person running it and seeing if he could get backstage, but he had a feeling that ambushing Jack after a show wasn’t a good idea.

“Shut up, Dyls,” Mitch says absently, still trying to see over everyone’s head from where they were at the bar. “You didn’t have shit planned for tonight. Jesus, that drummer’s hot _and_ he’s shirtless, holy fuck.”

Dylan rolls his eyes and asks JT for another beer before ignoring them to pull his phone out. 

Connor focuses back on the stage, watches Jack talk to the guitarist and lead singer in between songs, then drifts back to say something to the drummer; he’s too far back to see exactly what they're doing, but Jack looks relaxed and happy, throwing his head back to laugh at something the drummer says before he goes back to towards the front of the stage. 

“We don't usually play this, but we thought if anyone could appreciate it, Toronto would,” the singer tells the crowd, smiling easily when the crowd starts cheering the opening chords for _God’s Plan_.

“Are they going to sing Drake?” Mitch asks incredulously, actually standing on the rungs of his stool to try and see the stage better. “I thought they only sung pop-country!”

The last is said in Connor's general direction, but Connor doesn't bother answering, just watches Jack on stage the same way he used to watch him skate; the song’s as catchy as it always is, the beat easy to play along to and by the time they get to the second verse the whole bar’s yelling along. 

It doesn't sound as good as when it's on the radio, but it doesn't really have to as long as the crowd’s into it; it's a lesson his own band learned and it's obvious Jack’s has as well. 

“You should just nut up and talk to him,” Dylan tells him without looking up from his phone. “Sitting out here and staring at him is kind of stalkery, dude.”

“Fuck you,” Connor says absently without taking his eyes off the stage; he knows Dylan's right, but Connor's not sure how to even reintroduce himself to the guy he spent the first part of his teenage years playing against. 

They were never friends and barely said ten words to each other outside of hockey, but it feels momentous, like this _matters_ and Connor's at a loss to explain why. He hasn't been pining this whole time, he’s fucked other people and fell in love and had break-ups, and all that mattered to him, and at no point had it ever felt like anything -or one- was missing from his life. 

But now he's at his favorite dive bar in Toronto watching the person who made him realize he liked guys when they were both teenagers play bass in a cover band and it feels like almost no time’s passed since he was an awkward fourteen year old crushing on the asshole from the team that was his country's biggest rival. 

It's different now, Connor's not that kid any more than Jack is, but Connor still finds his eyes drawn to Jack, still feels desire pool in his stomach when Jack grins at the crowd just like he used to after scoring goals.

And Connor can't explain why any better at twenty-two than he could at fourteen. He still sees Jack and _wants_ with an intensity that scared him shitless as a teenager and makes him a little uneasy even as an adult. 

“We could just wait here and see if they come to the bar,” Mitch offers, ignoring Dylan's annoyed huff at his words; up on stage the band's wrapping up their set, drinking beer on stage during the last chorus of _Chicken Fried_. “You know I’ve got your back, even if Dylan bails,” he adds earnestly, still staring at the stage where the band was thanking the crowd and their roadies were starting to break down the equipment. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you have no ulterior motive,” Dylan snorts, tapping out something on his phone before he dims the screen and puts it into his pocket. “Must have been me drooling for the last thirty minutes, my bad.”

Mitch finally looks away from the stage to glare at Dylan and punch him in the shoulder; it turns into a shoving and even Connor drags his attention away from the stage to laugh at the two them. 

Mitch loses his balance and pitches backwards on the stool, falling off of it into an awkward sprawl at the feet of Jack and two other people. 

“First time anyone’s ever actually thrown themselves at me,” the drummer muses and holds out a hand to help Mitch up. 

Connor hears Dylan start laughing, but whatever else anyone else says fades to the background because Jack’s right in front of him and he looks completely dumbstruck to see Connor for the first time in almost a decade. 

“Hey, Jack, it's good to see you again,” Connor says awkwardly and puts his hands in his pockets just for something to do with them. 

Some things never change.


End file.
